Braids and Smelling Salts
by saramaewrites
Summary: Bellamy Blake knows some things, like braiding hair.


**Hello! This is not my first 100 story, I have one going on Wattpad, but this is my first 100 one-shot. I got this great idea seeing those gif's of Chris Pratt braiding that interviewer's hair. Basically it's just fluff, and implied bellarke. Hope you enjoy! I've recently been writing more than I'd been, so I'm a bit rusty.**

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><p><strong>Braids and Smelling Salts<strong>

She'd been wrestling with her hair for quite sometime while trying to patch up Monty's arm. He'd tripped on a branch after drinking too much moonshine, and had torn up his arm pretty badly. Jasper freaked out at the sight of the dripping blood from his best friend and passed out. Bellamy and Miller carried him into his tent, while Clarke took care of Monty, who was surprisingly fine. He watched in curiosity at the blood gushing, probably too drunk to realize it was kind of serious. Clarke wasn't one to panic while working on someone bleeding, but this was different. She herself had some moonshine before this had happened, so she wasn't sober and she was so guilty about it.

"This is kind of cool," Monty said with a large grin plastered on his face. Clarke whipped around and gave him the most angry look she could muster.

"Why were you by the wood pile, Monty? You should have been sitting somewhere and not stumbling around," She said, feeling the sleepiness she got from drinking wash over her some more.

"I wanted to touch the wood. What's wrong with that?" She frowned, not able to understand _why_ he needed to touch the wood, but decided that he was so shit-faced that he probably had no real reason. Once again, her hair fell into her face and she huffed, pushing it away with a bloody hand. That would suck to wash out later. Monty soon was giggling and Clarke huffed some more before grabbing a bandage to wrap his cut in. He'd fallen onto a rather sharp branch that stabbed him pretty badly. Bellamy was the first to reach him and snapped the branch off the larger branch and then pushed him towards Clarke.

"All yours," Bellamy had said gruffly, before turning to Miller and ordering him to help him with the unconscious Jasper. Clarke was a bit dazed for a second, having seen it all happen, and not being able to tell Monty to be careful. She was just so sleepy. And then it was too late, and here they were.

Soon they were done, and Clarke walked him to his tent, mostly to check Jasper's head to see if he bumped it on anything. Surely, Bellamy would have checked. He was pretty good about that. If he had seen anything that looked bad, he would have told Clarke, but he hadn't so, she figured he'd either didn't check, or didn't see anything. She was going to check anyway, because she'd sleep better knowing someone wasn't concussed.

She shook Jasper as soon as they'd reached the tent him and Monty shared. Panic washed through her groggy mind when he didn't wake up. But then she remembered the smelling salts she'd stored in her pocket on her way to their tent. She'd been so excited when she'd found them in the bunker her and Bellamy had searched. So Clarke had pulled the salts out and placed it under his nose, and he'd awoken with a gasp.

"Good," She'd said, smiling. Then she ordered him into a sitting position, where she shined the lantern on his head, examining every bit of it before checking his eyes. When she found no sign of a concussion, she smiled at him. "Looks like you're fine Jasper." He peered anxiously behind Clarke to see if his other half was okay.

"And Monty?"

"Absolutely fine," She reassured him, smoothing some hair out of his face before making him go back to sleep. "You guys are pretty trashed, sleep."

And then she left their tent, and made her way behind it to where no one could see her as she leaned over a bit and started hyperventilating. This could have been so much worse, and she really shouldn't have been drinking. As the camp's only doctor, she had a responsibility and the fact that she also was a co-leader meant that she had even _more_ responsibility.

But then there'd been arms on her shoulders, guiding her into a standing position once more. Warm brown eyes glowed and a small grin on Bellamy's face graced Clarke's presence.

"Breathe, Princess, breathe!"

Clarke, as tears rolled down her eyes, remembered a day when Wells and her had gotten into a fight and she'd try hard to not express any upset around her parents. But all it took was a "How was your day?" from her Mom, and she was crying instantly. Her Mom had always been the one who could just bring out tears when she was feeling like shit. But suddenly, Bellamy had replaced that, and there he was, standing with his hands on her shoulders, not judging her tears.

"It could have been real bad, Bellamy," She whispered. One of his hands slid down to the small of her back and he rubbed it. If Clarke's head wasn't so groggy, and she wasn't so upset, she might have wondered why there was so much contact going on between them at that moment.

"You did well, though. You fixed up Monty, and no doubt double checked Jasper's head, even when you know I did. You're doing really well, and your mom would be proud." He said. Later, he would say the same thing while she was trying to save Lincoln for Octavia. She would scoff at him and say that her mom would know how to save him.

A strand of hair once again fell in her face and she pushed it out of her face with a hand full of dried blood. She could feel even more dried blood on her face. Bellamy suddenly was tugging her over the the wash bin where a rag was placed nearby. Soon he was wiping blood off her face and hands.

"You should really put your hair up when you're working, because it's so long and unruly," he said, glancing at it. She blushed, from both his comment, that should have occurred to her, being the one with the hair, but also from his touch.

"I'm so bad at putting it up, though. I can do a french braid down the side, but that wouldn't help much, it would get in my way. Plus, I need a mirror." Bellamy grinned wide. "Why are you smiling, Blake?" She narrowed her eyes at him and stared him down as he moved the rag up and down her bloodied right arm. He shook his head, and when he was done, he pulled her into the dropship, which was lit better. Then he searched around the pile of medical supplies before finding a pile of ribbon Clarke had found in the bunker Finn found. She'd been using them to help with both tying people's arms to stop the blood flow, as well as keeping bandages on. Bellamy grabbed one.

"Sit,"he said while pushing her to the ground. He sat behind her and started braiding her hair and she sat there in silence for a while, really unsure if she'd been dreaming or if it had been real.

She couldn't take it anymore, so she asked, "Why do you know how to braid hair, Bellamy Blake?"

"You're forgetting that I practically raised Octavia, Clarke. I had to know _some_ things." Clarke let out an "Oh," and Bellamy laughed. When he was done he sat back and admired his work as Clarke dragged a hand across the creation. It felt really nice, and she had a feeling she was going to be asking Bellamy to do her hair more often. She'd once asked Raven, but Raven was so rough. And Octavia was no help, Clarke was guessing this was because Bellamy babied her and did her hair for her even now. But she'd had a new found respect for Bellamy and suddenly wanted to know more about him.

After that day, Bellamy braided her hair in the mornings. He once made a comment about him actually teaching Clarke, but Clarke protested, saying that she actually enjoyed this time they had together. Bellamy was surprised, as was Clarke since she hadn't meant for it to come out. He'd paused his braiding, but after a brief minute, continued and said, "Me too, Princess. Me too."


End file.
